


Poisonous charms

by My_Beating_Hart



Series: A Mahariel's Travels [48]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Bonding, Bonding over a snake, Gen, Gen Work, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Snakes, what do i even tag this as?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 03:25:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3921148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Beating_Hart/pseuds/My_Beating_Hart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set not long after Fen (https://archiveofourown.org/works/2711945) as the group reaches the Brecilian at last, Theron and Zevran take a few more cautious steps forwards in their relationship by bonding over venomous snakes and poison. As you do.<br/>They still don't know what their relationship is, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poisonous charms

“So… Warden.”

Theron looked up from pitching his tent, and raised an eyebrow promptingly at the Antivan hovering nearby. The trees of the Brecilian Forest were starting to grow closer together the further they travelled from the outskirts, and try as they might the group hadn’t been able to find a suitable clearing for their camp to be pitched for the night; the tents were bunched together around tree trunks in what little space they offered. Theron suspected it would only get worse if they ventured towards the old growth.

“I prefer Theron. What?” The Dalish elf asked, returning to hammering the last peg into the ground. His work on his tent was nearly done, and he suspected that Zevran had already finished his and was now trying to evade boredom. Why else would he come over, given how bizarre and strained their relationship had been the past few weeks? Theron honestly wasn’t sure what to think of it as. So long as there were no more attempts on his life, Zevran probably was no longer his enemy.

“Are there any venomous snakes in the Brecilian Forest?” Zevran asked as he leant against a nearby tree, the question shaking the other elf from his thoughts.

“Yes, there are one or two with venom strong enough to kill an elf.” Theron replied slowly, straightening up and ducking inside his newly erected tent to briefly check the inside. “I got bitten by one, a few years ago.”

When he left the tent, he was greeted with the former Crow’s look of surprise.

“I was on a hunt with two of my clanmates, and we’d taken our boots off to wade through a stream.” The ranger was prompted to explain, lifting one foot up to tug his boot off after a moment’s thought and show the evidence. The two elves studied the faint marks on Theron’s dark ankle, the unmistakeable pinprick scars of a bite that were fading slowly with age. “I didn’t watch where I put my feet as I climbed the bank on the other side of the river, and I nearly stepped on the snake’s tail.”

“Did it hurt?” Zevran asked, looking back at his face. Theron smirked, and nodded.

“It felt like a hot knife at first, but once that pain had faded my entire leg had started to go numb.” The black-haired elf explained as he put his boot on and shrugged his pack off to stow it away in his tent. “I had to be helped back to camp as the venom spread. Slowly.”

“Did it spread far?” The blond asked, following Theron to where Sten was arranging a circle of rocks for the night’s campfire.

“I spent two days in the aravel barely able to move from the neck down. Would that be considered far enough?”

Zevran snorted in amusement.

“And yet you survived it, clearly.”

“I had my Keeper and First’s quick healing magic to thank for that. I seem destined to survive many things thrown at me.” Theron pointed out, giving the former Crow a pointed look. “Anyway, it’ll take us a few days to find any sign of a Dalish clan, let alone track them to their camp, so we may as well stay camped here.” The ranger added in a louder voice to address the group, looking around at the trees that stretched as far as he could see. He was finally back in the Brecilian Forest. His home. The wind sighing through the canopy overhead was a comfort he hadn’t realised he’d missed so much until now, and one he knew would be even harder to leave behind once again.

Zevran didn’t bring up venomous snakes again until the evening meal.

“So, were there any other symptoms?” He asked during a lull in the conversation, drawing him one or two confused looks from the others.

“Symptoms? Oh, the snake.” Theron realised. “Slow paralysis, difficulty breathing when the venom was at it’s height… I don’t remember anything else, it was a while ago.” He shrugged.

“What are you two talking about?” Alistair frowned, looking between the two elves. “I think this is the longest you’ve talked to each other since… Well…” The human trailed off awkwardly with a feeble gesture between them.

 _Since that night on the road_ , Theron finished in his head, one hand absently going to his back and the faint nick of a scar he knew was there under his armour. Or, more accurately, those nights. The first spent with Zevran in his tent that finished with a knife against his back, and the second later on down the road when he’d ended up kissing Zevran after tending to his injury. The second one was something only they knew about, and they hadn’t really discussed it since.

The silence around the campfire after Alistair spoke was one of uncomfortable silence, Theron prodding at the remains of his food as Zevran looked into the heart of the fire. Outside the ring of firelight the trees crowded around and whispered urgently to themselves about the strangers led by one of their own as creatures hidden in shadows cried out to each other in the fading evening light.

“Venomous snakes in this charming forest.” The blond eventually said, before the atmosphere became even more oppressive for them all. “As one who regularly deals in poisons, I am naturally curious about the effects of pure toxin upon the body.” He added. “Sadly, not all who are bitten by snakes survive to provide a list of symptoms.”

“If you had the chance, would you use it upon us?” Morrigan questioned coolly; she hadn’t bothered to hide her mistrust and contempt towards the newcomer to their group where the others were slowly putting more of their trust in his skill with his blades and the oath of loyalty he had sworn.

Zevran frowned at the accusation.

“Of course not. Poisons from Ferelden are difficult to come across in Antiva unless one is willing to pay handsomely for a handful of small vials. There are few, but those that exist are highly effective.” Zevran answered firmly. “And as far as I know, there are no poisons on the markets made from anything from the Brecilian. It is uncharted territory, if you would. In many senses of the word.” The Antivan replied, his annoyance with the witch clear in the way his accent thickened and he started to roll his ‘r’s more, never mind the glares they gave each other. Theron was simply glad that the fire was a barrier between them.

“Anyway.” Leliana interjected, looking around at the group as the tension slowly ebbed in the silence that followed. The ranger cleared his throat.

“I don’t think there are any snakes close to the camp.” He offered, and Zevran shrugged.

“Acquiring the venom from a snake is a simple matter - the Crows make sure their assassins know how to harvest raw materials for poisons and their antidotes. But simply being aware of the symptoms is... Enough.” The blond replied, dismissively enough for Theron to wonder if the blond was lying. If what Zevran had said was true, what if he was wishing that he could have a vial or two of venom from the unknown stronghold of the Brecilian Forest, or even just a coating on his favoured blades?

Theron dwelt on the idea, the group finishing their meals as the conversation shifted to the Wardens discussing how to proceed when they found a clan, and the matter of snakes and poison wasn’t brought up again that night.

 

The next day, Zevran woke late after having drawn the last watch of the night, and found that the ranger had, unsurprisingly by now, left the camp.

“Is he hunting again?” The blond asked as he helped himself to the leftover porridge that Alistair hadn’t managed to burn beyond all recognition and sat down beside Leliana, who had nearly finished her lumps of ‘breakfast’.

“He took Dudain, so I think he might be looking for a nearby Dalish camp.” His fellow rogue replied. She was the only one to have placed any modicum of trust in him from the very beginning, something that Zevran begrudgingly found himself appreciating. It had eased his integration into the group, even after that disastrous first night he and Theron had spent together.

“If anyone can find a Dalish clan, it would be him.” The blond nodded, gingerly tasting a spoonful of his cooling meal and grimacing at the taste. He had certainly had worse meals in his life, but he vowed that tomorrow morning he would cook breakfast.

There was little the camp could do beyond wait for Theron to return with news, and there was no telling how long he might be away for. Quite possibly, he had risen at first light and wouldn’t get back until sunset.

Rather than sit around in the throes of boredom and wait, everyone took the time to tend their belongings now they would be staying put in one camp for the next few days, or perhaps longer if their luck was bad. Zevran set aside his bowl after he’d eaten enough to ensure he wouldn’t pass out before lunch, and set to work patching his armour.

 

Meanwhile, Theron had been following a sluggishly meandering river for the past hour in the hope it would increase his chances of finding signs of a Dalish clan. So far, he had found nothing, even with his sharp eyes and the mabari’s sharper nose.

They moved silently along the riverbank, Theron occasionally looking up at the sunlight that the trees allowed through in an attempt to check the sun’s position and that he was still going south-east. His quiver and bow pressed heavily against his shoulders, and it was only when he paused to take a drink from his waterskin that he realised it was empty. Clicking his tongue to make sure Dudain didn’t run on ahead without him, the ranger stepped down to the river he’d been walking along to refill his waterskin. Even through his boots, the water was still refreshingly cold as it flowed over his feet and hands.

“I’ve missed this, you know.” He commented as Dudain joined him, the dog splashing heavily into deeper waters to drink and cool off more thoroughly. Theron cleared his throat and took a drink, suddenly aware of how hoarse his voice was. This was the first time he’d spoken today.

It was only as he straightened up from his crouch and sealed his waterskin that he caught movement from the corner of his eye. Theron turned his head sharply to see a pair of small eyes so dark brown they looked black staring at him from the opposite bank. A forked tongue flicked out to taste the air.

The snake was at least as long as his forearm, but given how tightly it was coiled up on itself it was hard to tell precisely how long it was. The muddy copper patterning on it’s back also helped to break up it’s form against the dirt of the bank, but as the snake lifted it’s head up and tasted the air Theron caught a glimpse of the wan yellow underside.

Elf and snake stared at each other intently. This was the first time Theron had gotten a clear look at the type of snake that had bitten him once before. Hopefully that wouldn’t happen again; he wasn’t sure if Dudain would understand if he was asked to get help, or whether the others could reach him in time.

“Not going to hurt you.” The ranger muttered to it, realising he must have interrupted it as it basked or digested a meal in the sunlight. The snake continued to stare at him, but it’s body slowly straightened back out as it relaxed. The Dalish elf relaxed as well, ignoring the fact his toes were almost numb given how long he’d been standing in the river.

The longer he looked at the snake, the more Theron remembered Zevran’s words from the previous night, about snake venom. The ranger took a careful step closer to the snake, watching it’s tongue flick out again. He had to be careful if he was going to do this. The last time he’d been bitten was unpleasant enough.

The closer he got to the snake, the more tension crept back into the smaller creature. It’s body coiled up underneath it again, and the lifted head flattened out to better emphasise the triangular shape of it. Theron dropped back into a crouch, ignoring the chill of the water, and stared the snake down.

“Not going to hurt you, _da’_ _daurnatha_.” He repeated slowly, calmly, as if it would be able to pick up on the meaning of his words from the tone of his voice alone. The snake’s jaws parted slightly, a seam of light pink against the dark brown scales the one warning he had before it lunged forwards with gleaming fangs.

Theron brought his left arm up, and felt the snake’s fangs glance harmlessly off his bracer. Before it could fall into the water and recover itself for another more successful strike, the ranger’s right hand caught the snake by the neck, directly behind the head. The snake hissed in outrage, thrashing and coiling it’s long body around his arm, but it was trapped and unable to bite, muscles far too weak to constrict Theron’s arm through his bracer.

The Dalish elf stared down at the snake in disbelief, making sure to keep his grip tight and his thumb away from the gaping pink-white jaws and the fangs that glistened with venom. He’d actually done it. He’d caught a _snake_. _Barehanded_. A venomous one at that. Theron frowned slightly as he recalled the previous night, and what Zevran had said about poisons.

“Can’t believe it.” He told Dudain, who whined in confusion as he stared at the snake’s twisting coils from a safe distance. “Do you think finding a clan can wait?” Theron grinned as he looked down at the snake. “I need to show Zevran.”

The two of them left the river, Theron still gripping the snake tight enough at the base of it’s triangular head so it couldn’t wriggle free and bite him, but gently enough that he (hopefully) wasn’t choking it. Eventually it calmed down, the copper scales glinting as it coiled wearily around his arm like it was a tree branch. It let out a sullen hiss.

“Beautiful.” Theron replied, looking down to feel it’s weight on his arm. He’d nearly been right about it’s size; stretched out, it was probably as long as the span from the tip of his middle finger to his elbow.

 

When Theron reached the campsite Zevran’s look of wide-eyed surprise was perfection. The Antivan noticed the snake first, and when he got to his feet reflexively it also drew Leliana and Morrigan’s attentions.

“Have you joined the dog in bringing back all manner of ‘gifts’ to the camp?” The witch asked as they all stared at Theron’s right arm and the snake curled around it.

“No, you’ll be sad to hear.” Theron replied, wincing at how hoarse his voice sounded and clearing his throat. He probably needed to talk more.

“Why did you pick up a snake?” Leliana questioned, stepping closer but stopping a safe distance away, eyes not leaving the snake. The black-haired elf looked up at Zevran, who frowned back at him.

“Please don’t tell me that is like the snake that once bit you. I doubt I have the antivenom or Morrigan the necessary healing spells to save you if you got bitten again.” The blond replied dryly, tilting his head as the snake tasted the air of the campsite.

“I didn’t get bitten,” Theron replied. _Although it was a close call and I was probably very stupid for even thinking this was a good idea_ , he admitted within the privacy of his thoughts. “But it is one of those snakes, a _daurnatha_.” He adding, and Zevran raised an eyebrow.

“Not many would be so foolish as to catch a venomous snake barehanded and alone in the wilderness. Well done.” Morrigan said coolly.

“It has beautiful colouring.” Leliana offered, and the ranger nodded in agreement as he looked down at the copper sheen beneath the darker brown patterns.

“Seeing as you went to some effort to presumably get this snake just for me, give me a moment to collect some things from my tent.” Zevran said, tearing his gaze away from the snake and the elf who had caught it.

“Alistair will whelp mabari pups if he sees this. Where is he?” Theron realised, looking around quickly for any sign of his fellow Warden.

“Luckily for you, he walked under the wrong tree and a flock of birds dive-bombed him. Twas most entertaining. I think he is still washing the smell of bird excrement from his clothes.”

The Dalish elf relaxed, looking down at the snake. The snake stared back at him expectantly.

When Zevran returned they decided it would be best to keep the snake away from camp in case it somehow got free.

“Do the Dalish ever harvest snake venom to use on their weapons?” The blond asked conversationally as they sat down a short distance away from the tents and campfire.

“Yes, but my clan never made a habit out of it because of the obvious risks.” Theron answered, carefully resting his arm and the attached snake in his lap as Zevran drew out a small clay jar from the bundle of objects he’d gathered from his tent. The jar fit neatly in his hand, and the top was covered with a taut square of cloth that was tied firmly to the jar’s rim with a length of thread.

“Then you know how it is done, yes?” Zevran asked, holding the jar out.

“If I didn’t, I think I could guess.” Theron answered, pausing to adjust his hold on the snake’s head and carefully squeeze the sides of it’s jaws until it’s mouth opened. The snake’s tail whipped against his upper arm irritably, hard enough to sting, and he resisted the urge to apologise to it given how Zevran was sitting directly opposite him and watching closely.

He took the offered jar, and carefully hooked the snake’s fangs over the rim and through the cloth. The creature’s tail flicked at him again, but then it readjusted it’s hold on the jar. The two elves watched as it bit down properly.

“My clan would trade for snake venom if we needed it.” Theron continued speaking, feeling Zevran’s golden eyes on him and suddenly wanting to fill the silence between them. “But sometimes hunters went out to collect it themselves - with the Keeper’s supervision, of course. They weren’t allowed to bring snakes back into the camp, not with the children and halla around. Too dangerous.”

The ranger stopped before he could babble further. Why should Zevran care about what his clan did? He looked down at the jar and snake that occupied his hands, wondering how much venom it had released. There was no way to tell, so it would be best to wait until the snake began to pull away.

“Did you ever use snake venom on your arrowheads?” The former Crow asked, a question that Theron had expected.

“Sometimes, when I wasn’t hunting to provide for the clan. I wouldn’t be a good hunter if I brought back poisoned meat.” The ranger answered, smiling ruefully to himself.

“But you did use it, no?”

Theron hesitated before he nodded, knowing it hadn’t just been for hunting bears or wolves that threatened the clan and couldn’t be eaten.

“Yes... Mostly on bears.” He added slowly, not daring to look up at Zevran. “So, what will you use this for?”

“Naturally, my daggers. But I think it would be wise to begin building up a tolerance to the venom before we venture any deeper into this forest.” The assassin replied, and Theron frowned sharply at him. “Standard Crow training, and I give you my word that I shall not use more than a drop.” Zevran reassured him, smiling faintly. “I do not wish to be a hinderance and have to be carted around if my bad luck continued and I was bitten or accidentally poisoned myself. So, while you are busy looking for a clan, if you would have no-one else accompany you I will make best use of my time in camp.”

“By poisoning yourself?” Theron questioned flatly, raising one eyebrow skeptically.

“Again, just a drop of poison.” Zevran insisted.

The Dalish elf sighed.

“Is it really something all Crows do? Willingly poison themselves?”

“The good ones, yes. It helps them to stay alive slightly longer, sometimes.”

Theron blinked, and returned his attention to the snake when it began to wriggle against the rim of the jar.

“I’ve never heard of anyone poison themselves to build up a tolerance to it. Does it even work?”

“It has done so in the past, so I have been told.” Zevran answered, watching the ranger gently lift the snake away from the clay jar, and he accepted the container back. “It is a lengthy process which can take years, depending on how much tolerance a Crow wishes to build and occasionally how long he wishes to remain immune for.” He explained. “I have never had the chance to work with venom this fresh.”

“Can they become completely immune to poisons?”

“Occasionally, yes. Of course, it would not do for an assassin reveal precisely which poisons he was or was not immune to, no?” Zevran chuckled as he pulled the cloth off the jar and peered inside at the collected venom. The snake had yielded a decent amount, as he’d hoped.

“Are you immune to any?”

The blond grinned at the question he’d expected ever since they’d first gotten onto this topic of poisons.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He replied cryptically, securing the cloth back over the jar as Theron got to his feet.

“Interesting.” Was the ranger’s parting comment as he walked away from camp and the way he’d set off early in the morning. He counted forty paces before he gently uncoiled the snake from around his arm and set it down on the ground. Theron stepped away quickly, but all the snake did was stare up at him as if it were disoriented before it slithered away, soon becoming lost in the undergrowth and leaf litter. He breathed a sigh of relief, and then returned to Zevran.

The blond was dipping what looked like a needle into the jar, and he barely looked up as Theron approached. What he would do with it was obvious.

“Just one drop.” He repeated, no doubt able to feel the Dalish elf’s disapproving gaze.

“If this doesn’t work I’ll have to drag you back to camp.”

“I do not think I am too heavy for you, Theron. You seem as strong as you are smart and handsome.” Zevran shrugged airily, tapping the excess fluid off the end of the needle before he held it up to inspect it. Theron was silent in the face of the abrupt compliment, unsure of what to say or how to react.

“I suppose I should thank you properly for going to such a length after our conversation last night. Truly, a venomous snake is a very unique gift indeed." Zevran smiled faintly.

Theron hesitated at the thanks and the unexpected smile, before he shrugged and fought back a responding smile of his own.

“Don’t mention it. And try not to paralyse yourself, either. It’s not a pleasant experience, trust me.” He answered as he left Zevran in peace, making sure his back was to the assassin before he permitted himself a faint, quick smile.

**Author's Note:**

> I really need to write the entire Brecilian Forest questline, because so much happens for Theron's development and also their relationship during it.  
> One day. For now enjoy Theron being a dork as always.  
> Constructive criticism, whether on this piece or any others I've posted on here, is very much welcome!


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